Page 14 of Fey Sovereignty (Fey Lords #4)

Chapter fourteen

M y knees are really starting to kill and my calf muscles are cramping. Maybe it is time to retire? My body certainly is protesting about being put through this shit. Being a secret agent is definitely a young man’s game.

Though usually it doesn’t require kneeling at some jumped-up little twerp’s feet for hours. So I might be fine after this job. It could very well be that it is this mission that is shitty, and not my entire career.

Either way, I should finish the mission, put Llywelyn on the throne, and then get the hell away from him. Then, and only then, should I reevaluate all my life choices. Because thinking clearly around the prince is impossible. There is no point in even attempting it until I’m free of him. Lust has never, ever in the entire history of human civilization, led to good decision making.

I clench my leg muscles, hold it, then release. It gives me a little bit of relief.

Above me, around the table, the fey are getting very drunk. Hopefully, someone will pass out soon and the night will be over. It feels like my little show was hours ago. Since then, the fey nobles have been drinking steadily. I’ve learnt a lot of court gossip, and gained leg cramp. And now I’m so ready for this night to end.

“A wager!” declares Prys. “I grow tired of this drinking game. Let’s liven things up!”

“What did you have in mind?” slurs Lord Gerwyn.

Prys clears his throat. “Whoever loses the next round… has to spread for everyone else. ”

Lady Braith chortles with excited glee. She has mentioned several times how much she loves her new strap-on. Gerwyn claps his hands together like an excited toddler.

I risk a peek up. Llywelyn is slumped in his chair. His antlers are not on display, and he is very obviously far more inebriated than anyone else. And he has been losing terribly for the last thirty minutes. Judging by the predatory look in his companions’ eyes, they are fully aware of this, and they have one outcome in mind.

“Are you in, Your Highness?” drawls Prys in a voice that drips sweet venom.

Llywelyn stares at his guests. He blinks slowly. “Yes!”

My heart sinks. For fuck’s sake. Why oh why am I stuck with such an idiot? I swear he doesn’t have a single brain cell in that pretty head of his.

Braith laughs again. Gerwyn sniggers and quickly starts dealing out the cards. Prys’s smile is positively evil. A calculating gleam in his cold black eyes. His skin has a blue tinge to it and his hair is all royal blue and silver. He has to be some cruel ocean creature. A shark or a Killer Whale. Something that plays with its food.

“Are you sure, Prys?” Braith attempts to whisper, but her voice is pretty much at full volume. “He is a prince.”

Prys shrugs. A slow, insidious motion. “He is a resyn,” he says quietly.

Llywelyn is staring at his cards. Concentrating hard. He doesn’t seem to have heard them at all. He lays down his first card and blinks blearily at Prys.

Oh fuck. This isn’t good at all. What the hell am I going to do? Why are the fey so sex-obsessed and perverted? What is wrong with them?

I inhale through my nose and hold the oxygen in my lungs. I need to think. Will it affect the mission if Llywelyn gets railed by these three douchebags? He did agree to it. So maybe it is just my human sensibilities that are alarmed? This could be fine. A normal part of fey culture. I could be overacting simply because I know Llywelyn’s past, and it is making me feel protective of him.

I exhale slowly. If they fuck him, will these assholes still respect Llywelyn enough to put him on the throne?

Braith squeals in delight. Shit, she won that hand. Prys leans forward and pulls a small, wicked looking dagger from out of his midnight blue sleeve.

My breath hitches. He will not kill Llywelyn. Prys would not find it entertaining. I know this. I need to stay calm.

My eyes widen as he places the tip of his dagger against Llywelyn’s chest. It is taking everything I have to remain motionless and simply observe.

“Another couple of hands, and these will be coming off, Resyn,” he hisses.

Llywelyn flinches at the last word. The blade inches down, slicing through silk and revealing pale skin. Llywelyn stares up at Prys with an eerily blank expression. As if he has shut down. Dissociated.

The knife cuts a little lower. My jaw clenches. Llywelyn is embarrassed about his chest. He sleeps with a heavy nightgown on, and he didn’t let me see him fully naked until I barged in. No one knows he has omega traits. Not even his own family.

I’m jumping to my feet before I’ve fully finished that thought. My muscles protest. Prys pulls away from my sudden movement, allowing me full access to Llywelyn. I scoop the prince up into my arms in a bridal carry and he doesn’t resist at all. He is a warm, pliant weight in my arms.

“He will berate me in the morning for letting him get too drunk!” I say. While three pairs of fey eyes stare at me in astonishment.

It is a lame excuse. I’m risking far too much by intervening. I am not behaving professionally at all. But it is too late now .

I turn my back to the fey and start striding towards Llywelyn’s bedchamber. My back is prickling. I can feel their stares. I’m waiting for a dagger to stab into my flesh.

“Must be one of those moral things humans get upset about,” says Gerwyn.

“We don’t have to abide by the wishes of a pet,” hisses Prys.

A chair moves. Fuck. I’m three steps from the door. It feels like a mile. If I can get through it, I can slam it in their faces and hopefully lock it. If not, I can brace myself against it.

Suddenly, Tae appears in the wide, shadowy doorway. He glares past me, at the guests. His good wing flutters aggressively and his eyes glow a demonic red. He opens his mouth and reveals a huge row of needle thin, very sharp-looking teeth. He growls, low and heavy, and I can feel the sound shaking my chest.

I dart past him. Fucking hell. I am so glad he is on my side!

“Fine!” snaps Prys. “Let’s go find entertainment elsewhere.”

The bedchamber door slams shut. I look over my shoulder. Tae is on the other side. I hope he is seeing the guests out and not eating them. Either way, Llywelyn is safe now. I can breathe.

The lamplight is soft in here, and it is quiet. It is so damn good to be away from that blasted, never ending card game.

Tae has turned down the covers, and the bed looks so wonderfully inviting. I swear I have never seen a more welcoming sight.

I carry Llywelyn over to his bed and gently lay him down. I try to move back, but his arms loop around my neck. Saffron-bright eyes fix on me intently. I stare back at him and feel as if I’m drowning in gold.

I feel his body move. A slow slide of his long legs across the sheets as he spreads for me.

My treacherous cock stiffens. I swallow thickly.

“No, Llywelyn,” I say softly. I’m not making that mistake again. I have enough sins to repent for .

He blinks slowly. Is he even seeing me? What thoughts are running through his pretty head?

I try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t release me. Instead, he tries to pull me closer, onto the bed and onto him.

“No,” I say sternly

His entire body recoils. He flinches as if I have punched him in the face. He lets go of me and I stagger back from the abruptness of it all. Llywelyn flips over onto his stomach. He draws his knees up, hitches up his robes, and presents his wonderful ass to me.

My brain ceases to function. My jaw drops open. The only part of me that is working is my cock. That part of me is happily swelling with every pounding beat of my heart.

I step towards the bed. Llywelyn is trembling. And I don’t think it is with anticipation. He is drunk and offering his ass, and shaking.

I force another swallow down my throat. “Llywelyn, you are very drunk.”

“Sorry, Iestyn,” he whispers forlornly.

My eyes close as my heart clenches with pain. Fucking hell. Iestyn. He said Iestyn. The name he called out in terror during his nightmare. The name of the predator who groomed him. I wasn’t sure before. On the night of his nightmare, he cried out, Iestyn. And then, half-awake, he told me about the man he thinks he loves. I wasn’t sure if the two were connected.

But now I know.

Gently, I place my hand on Llywelyn’s hip and roll him over onto his back. He stares up at me with wide, fear-filled eyes.

“What did I do wrong?” he whimpers.

“Nothing,” I assure him. “You can go to sleep.”

His beautiful eyes fill with confusion.

My heart breaks a little more.

“Go to sleep,” I say sternly. “I will deal with you tomorrow.”

The confusion clears from his eyes. Curt orders are something he can understand. He nods sharply and rolls onto his side. I watch as he curls up into a tiny ball. His breathing evens out and slows. He seems to fall asleep quickly.

Good for him. I’m not sure if I will ever be able to sleep again. I’ve walked into a pit of cruelty and depravity. And it is going to consume me.